


Sword Polishing

by ZhoraKys



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhoraKys/pseuds/ZhoraKys
Summary: Goemon must meditate so he won't be distracted by naked bodies. That's not going so well.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke
Comments: 14
Kudos: 128





	Sword Polishing

Caramel-coloured light spilled in through the open sliding door and coated the tatami mats, turning their dun brown an inviting shade of amber. Goemon sat alone at the back of the room where the sunlight met the shadow of the house's interior. Back against one wall, legs crossed. 

He had Zantetsuken propped up, leaning against his right shoulder, and was gripping the bottom of the plain wooden sheath with his left hand.

An outside observer, had there been one, might have thought Goemon was asleep at first. If they'd ventured closer, through the once-manicured expanse of lawn and ornamental brush that made up the backyard of the expansive rural property that Lupin and the gang had commandeered, they might have noticed the tightness of Goemon's fingers wrapped around his sword, or the slightly unnatural straightness of the man's back. 

They might have noticed the too-regular rhythm of Goemon's breathing, and the muscles working in his jaw as he tried in vain to push away the intrusive thoughts that had led him to meditate in the first place. 

Lupin and Jigen had stepped out earlier to get provisions. For nearly an hour after they'd left, Goemon had stood at the kitchen counter watching a cup of green tea go cold, unable to tear his thoughts away from the images in his head. 

The three of them had gone scouting the previous evening. They'd been at the safehouse only a week, and Lupin had convinced the two others that they ought to do some reconnaissance. To get to know the local area, scope out any hidey-holes that might prove useful should things get hot, and make note of any hazards that they ought to steer clear of. Pretty standard stuff, though Goemon knew that Lupin's motive was only partly altruistic. 

"I also hear there's a really nice waterfall with a pool down in the ravine about two kilometres south of here," he'd said. Goemon remembered watching a droplet of condensation run down the outside of Jigen's glass of scotch. 

"Great," Jigen had said with a noncommittal wave. "I feel like I'm being roasted alive in this heat."

It had been late in the day by the time they'd found the waterfall, and all three of them had been absolutely drenched in sweat. Lupin had been down to his pants, his tie hanging around his neck, shirt and jacket draped over one shoulder. Jigen had still been in shirtsleeves, though he had his blazer over one arm and had stuffed his tie in his pants pocket. 

"Last one in has to French kiss Zenigata!" Lupin had yelped, undoing his belt as he rushed toward the water. Goemon had felt a blush ghost across his cheeks, though in that heat no one could have attributed it to embarrassment. 

He remembered his fingernails digging into his palms as he’d watched Jigen kick off his trousers. He remembered thinking he ought to trim them as Lupin had looked at him and asked, with that wolfish little grin of his, "you coming in?"

Goemon’s thoughts stalled against the image of the thief stripping off his boxers in one quick motion and winking at him, the splash of clear water against the algae-covered rocks as he and Jigen had cannonballed into the little pool, their voices getting lost in the rush of the waterfall. 

Sitting on the tatami mats, Goemon clenched his jaw involuntarily. He was doing it again. The idea of meditation was to let thoughts come and go, focusing on nothing. But the sight of Jigen's bare… _everything,_ the way the gunman had smiled at Goemon, and Goemon’s disorientation coming in waves as his gaze drifted and bobbed like an untethered buoy...

 _Take note of each thought, then let it go._ Goemon drew in a breath. Pale scars on Jigen's skin. _Breathe._ The pattern of hair as it ran across Jigen's chest and down to his navel and then lower, opening into a soft patch just above… _breathe!_ Jigen's arms, toned from hefting all manner of heavy artillery and car parts and gods knew what else, wet and shimmering in the seven o'clock sun. _Breathe… breathe!!_

Goemon screwed up his face in concentration. Sunlight. Breathe. The texture of the tatami. Breathe. The sound of cicadas. Breathe. The low rumble of Jigen's voice, in the middle of the night, slipping so easily between sober discussion and that quiet, teasing lilt that made Goemon's vision go fuzzy at the edges, the hairs on his arms stand on end, Jigen's breath, slightly smoky, hot against Goemon's skin… _breathe!_

The samurai shifted, aware quite suddenly of a relocation of blood in his body. He huffed out another breath that should have been indicative of much more intense physical activity. 

_To become truly united -- a cohesive, functioning whole -- one must resolve the body with the spirit._ He sighed. While his sensei's teachings had not specifically extended to cover his current predicament, Goemon was perceptive enough to know that fighting it would not allow him to regain control any quicker. Sometimes one had to take matters into one's own hands. 

_Sex is a form of meditation_ , Lupin had declared once, drunkenly, in the middle of a crowded restaurant with one arm draped over Fujiko. 

Goemon remembered the way Jigen had taken a deliberate sip of his wine and raised an eyebrow in his direction.

Keeping his eyes shut and one hand on Zantetsuken, he found the knot at the front of his hakama and deftly undid it, allowing the fabric to scuff down under its own weight. The same slender, pale fingers ghosted across his skin there, feeling through the wiry patch of hair to where his manhood was already beginning to push upward against the rough, heavy cotton of the hakama.

He took himself in hand and let his mind flood with the image of Jigen emerging from the pool in the ravine that day, stark naked and dripping, droplets of water catching the fading light of twilight in loving mimicry of the stars as they unfurled above. From there, Goemon threaded together a fantasy of sorts -- in his mind's eye Jigen was hard, and when he came out of the water he made to grip himself, his dark eyes settling on Goemon's pale, naked form, prone on grass that was softer than any grass he'd lain on in real life. 

Goemon's hand moved slowly, tugging at the top of the motion and stopping momentarily, as he imagined Jigen kissing him, his wet body somehow still warm, alive with painful immediacy. The samurai's hand became Jigen's cock as the dream of the gunman rocked his hips upward against Goemon's, the pair of them tasting each other. 

"Jigen," Goemon whispered into the empty house. His left hand gripped Zantetsuken, white-knuckled. Giving himself to the urge, he imagined that it was Jigen's cock. Aware, distantly, of a faint sway toward self-ridicule he stroked his hand up Zantetsuken's length, once, twice, gasping as the mental image took hold of his muscular impulses and for a moment he really was stroking Jigen, hearing the man's heavy breaths and sensing his impending undoing. 

It was a critical few seconds before he registered the sound of the sliding door closing or noticed the change in the room's lighting. Then he did and his eyes snapped open. The hand that had been around his cock flew to Zantetsuken's hilt and he pressed his back into the wall until it hurt, heart pounding with fear or embarrassment, mind and stomach both churning in chaos.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," said Jigen. He was holding a paper bag of groceries, which he set on the floor with one hand, holding his other hand up as though a gun were pointed at him. Goemon glanced at Zantetsuken and pulled the tip of the sword away from Jigen's chest, slightly. 

He stood, angling the sword, not knowing what else to do. He was panting.

"You, uh…" Jigen reached a hand up to angle his hat down over his eyes, turned himself away. "Sorry. I guess I shoulda hollered or something."

"Where's Lupin?" Asked Goemon. His voice was strained and shaking with the effort of continuing to exist, to not simply disassociate until his molecules dispersed into the air, and his consciousness ceased to be.

"We split up -- he went to get some currency exchanged. He'll, uh… he'll be a little while yet."

Goemon pulled his kimono tight around himself with one hand. It did a comically poor job of hiding his fading erection, but his hakama were a lost cause at this point. 

"You… gonna put that sword down, or what?"

Goemon glanced at Zantetsuken. He sheathed it and, in a rush of misplaced anger, pushed it so it clattered to the floor. 

"Goemon…"

"I am sorry. Please forget that you… forget that you saw this. It was dishonourable of me."

"Goemon." Jigen was getting closer.

"Jigen, I… I must ask for your word. _Please._ Please do not tell Lupin."

" _Goemon._ "

Jigen's face was barely six inches from Goemon's now, and Goemon, still pressed against the wall, had nowhere to go. 

"Yes?"

"I was going to ask if you, uh… wanted some help with that."

Goemon was paralyzed. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. He swallowed, then gasped as he felt Jigen's hand wrap around his half-hard cock. 

"Hm? Is this okay?"

_Breathe._

"Y-yes?"

Jigen pressed his face into Goemon's neck. "You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"Jigen, I… _ah!_ "

Goemon's erection returned in force, then, along with a need to be touching, gripping _something._ He went for Jigen's belt, undoing it with frantic fingers and finding the other man hard, pressing his cock through his boxers with the flat of his hand.

Jigen laughed and sank his teeth gently into Goemon's neck. "Okay. Now I believe you." 

He began stroking Goemon slowly, one hand pressed against his chest, pinning Goemon against the wall. Goemon kissed him, eyes shut. Every electron of processing power that wasn't zeroed in on his own dick was now focused on the feeling of Jigen in his hand. Jigen was incredibly hard, and it had happened incredibly fast, and Goemon couldn't help but be slightly, vaguely flattered by that, even as he felt the shimmering roll of his own arousal begin to spin up past the point where he had space to contain it. He pressed his back against the wall and with his free hand pulled Jigen toward him, so their hips were nearly touching, hands and wrists bumping and skimming as they fought for control, as much over each other as themselves.

"Goemon," said Jigen in that low rumble of a voice. 

Goemon was nearly lost. He bit his lip, painfully, trying to pull himself back from the edge even for just a moment. 

Jigen was still talking. "Next time…"

"Next… time?"

"If you want."

" _Yes._ "

"Next time… I want..."

Goemon felt a bead of sweat run down his cheek. He bucked his hips, fighting against Jigen's grip, trying to combat the other man's rhythm. _Not yet… not yet. Breathe!_ He increased the tempo of his own hand and was rewarded with a laugh from Jigen and a desperate grunt as the gunman tried in vain to twist away. 

_You won't win._

"You… want to…"

"I wanna _fuck_ you…"

Goemon gasped, forgetting himself, and tightened his grip on Jigen. For a moment, a breath, he felt himself teetering on the precipice, then Jigen pumped with vicious intent and Goemon felt his orgasm erupt somewhere deep in his belly. He cried out, surprised at himself as he flexed his hips half involuntarily, feeling his knees buckle, his grip on Jigen faltering as he sank to the floor, cock still pulsing. 

Jigen pushed Goemon's useless hand away and gripped himself, jerking quickly a few times and giving Goemon just enough warning to adjust his position. Goemon shut his eyes and sighed as Jigen came against his chest.

When it was over Jigen leaned forward against the wall and Goemon craned his neck impulsively to clean the gunman’s cock with his tongue. 

The gunman panted for another moment more, then left Goemon in his disheveled haze, returning a moment later with a towel. 

"Here," he said, handing it to Goemon. 

Goemon wiped his chest, then the floor. He watched Jigen fix his pants and his belt, then kneel to pick up the groceries again. With the sliding door shut it felt much later than it should have, though the grid of rice paper that made up the partition still gave off a diffuse midday warmth.

"Did you mean that?"

"Huh?"

"About… next time."

Jigen laughed, then stopped and tilted his hat up so Goemon could see his eyes. 

"If you meant it when you said yes. Then, yes."

"Hm. Well then," said Goemon. "Next time."

Jigen walked across the room with the bag of groceries and slid open the interior door. "Oh, and Goemon?"

"Hm?"

"I won't tell Lupin. Your honour's safe with me."

Goemon smiled. He waited until Jigen had left the room before picking up his hakama and fixing the sash.

_Next time._

_Breathe._

**Author's Note:**

> Next time? [Gun Cleaning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24687832)


End file.
